


Cola

by cloud9ism



Category: zeke'sdementedlittlebrain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloud9ism/pseuds/cloud9ism
Summary: "... en las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos. la besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito..." - pablo neruda





	Cola

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my twisted, lonely little mind. i have nothing better to do with my time :) if ur confused by this that means you weren't supposed to find it. turn away now. if you are Not confused.... hi friends :D

It’s said that true love is often found in the most unconventional corners of life.

That it comes when you least expect it, when you think you’ve already found it.

From a young age, love is the only pain we’re taught to accept. Taught that it’s natural and normal to feel your stomach do flips and find that your heart has moved up into your throat when you merely think of that special someone. It’s all physiological and it's just how things are.

Some of us are better at accepting this grueling human experience than others. Some of us embrace it fully, the magic of love; some even wait years upon years for that special suffering. Some run from it, like snatching a hand away from a hot surface before they get burned. It’s human to want to survive and some simply want to survive love. To leave the experience of love unscathed and untouched. Leave before you get left.

Love, affection, infatuation and all feelings alike move like predators in search for prey. Ambushing the vulnerable and unsuspecting to go in for the kill. Often it is easier to run and hide from love than to find resolution for it, why find out if they feel the same when they very well could not. It is mere survival of the fittest, to those faint of heart; love is not the experience for you.

**_Soy el fuego que arde tu piel_ **

A sample of the smothering Colombian heat that made its way through the cracks of the jet bridge was enough to have Carmen’s chest tightening; she shrugged it off as a side effect of the humidity though she knew it wasn’t. 

She flowed quite smoothly through the airport process, even finding it unnervingly easy to collect her bags amongst the ever busy baggage claim. Immigration and customs flew by with the “I’m an actor” pass. She was out quickly and effortlessly, standing with her small team of two to wait for the car production had set up. Much appreciated was the large black SUV that met on the curb only half an hour later.

Carmen watches her team doze off, tired beyond belief. She tries to close her eyes, to let the jet lag and exhaustion overpower her but everything she’d been feeling the minute she departed from Miami to landing in Bogotá had been bubbling under skin and suddenly the picturesque landscape blurring against her window made her feel she was entering a very personal hell.  What was she thinking: saying yes to a second season, a second round of months submerged in a story that made her heart feel like it was beginning to turn to mush within herself? It was a mistake from the moment she got the pitch from Netflix, the moment she was sent the script to read and think about it over, the moment she’d agreed after some badgering from her beloved agent. Sequels are never good, never. 

She couldn’t shake the feeling of pure  _ doom _ the minute she heard the flight attendant announce their arrival. Her teeth felt like they’d break if she clenched them together any more and that tightness in her chest was back. She hadn’t even noticed she’d drawn blood from how intensely she’d been gnawing at her hangnails.  _ This is such a bad fucking idea _ . It echoed in her mind; bounced off the corners and back again into the spotlight like a sick game of mental pinball. She knew it would’ve been idiotic of her to turn down an opportunity  _ like this  _ over something  _ like that _ . And she knew that she’d never be able to live with herself or look anyone on her team in the eye ever again if she said “no thanks” to fucking Netflix. 

They knew something was off about her the minute they heard her tell the writers she would  _ consider  _ it after “talking it over” with her team instead of just outright saying ‘Fuck yes’ like she had anything fucking else of substance going on to consider not elongated her time as a cast member of one of the most popular shows like,, ever. 

Carmen revisits Ralfo, her aforementioned beloved agent, banging on her door at seven in the morning after finding out about what she had told the Netflix reps. 

His voice boomed through her apartment once she let him inside after some questions as to why he was here so early and why he looks so bewildered, “Are you out of your mind, Carmen? Has the New York weed finally fried your brain like  _ un puto huevo _ ?!” 

She sat very nonchalantly at her kitchen counter with a Red Bull in one hand and her chin nestled in the other. Directing her glance at her long-time friend, past target of her fiery infatuation and new talent rep, she spoke to ease him, “No, you fuckwad. I am perfectly sane. Why is it so insane that I wanted to think this over than just diving ass first into it?” She took a sip from her energy drink and focused her attention back to the assignment she had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. 

“It’s  _ insane _ because this isn’t just something you think about, this is Narcos! Fucking Netflix! You know that thing that paid for this finely decorated hole you live in? And launched your name out there farther than playing another bitch on AHS for another season ever could have?” At this point, Ralfo was pacing along the rug Carmen’s aunt had gifted her as a New York apartment warming present with a fury; the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. 

Carmen felt guilty. She’d never seen him so stressed and so upset before, never so upset at  _ her _ ever. With a huff she made her way into her living room where Ralfo was mumbling under his breath and sat in one of the love seats, watching him slowly lose his mind. 

He spoke again after seeing the look on Carmen’s face morph from her usual indifference to what could be mistaken as guilt. “Look, I just- You’ve never  _ considered _ anything ever, like ever. And now… Now you’re talking to Netflix reps without letting me know and telling them that you’ll  _ consider  _ coming back for another season for this dumb ass Fed show that put your name  _ out there _ .” He moves to stand directly in front of Carmen where she’s sat with hands in her lap, looking very sorry, “Whatever it is that’s stopping you from just saying yes… It’s got to be Armageddon level reasoning because this is just so unlike the Carmen I know.” 

She stared up at him for a moment and for another moment considered telling him the truth, reasoning with herself that maybe he’d understand. But, to be very honest, she herself didn’t understand. He was right, Carmen has never stopped to think about almost anything since she started out, never faltering in going with her gut. She didn’t consider anything the first time she’d been contacted about this Netflix thing shot in Colombia sure to be a fucking hit. She was barely nineteen and had stars in her eyes, she said yes before they could even book her a flight. 

A lot happened that filming of the first season and after, a fuck ton of shit. And now, now they were asking for her back and all the fuck ton of shit weighed on her mind. Carmen just could not bring herself to simply accept, she was scared shitless and unnerved at the prospect of having to return. And no, her reasons were not Armageddon level. He would call her reasons juvenile and then call her an idiot. 

So she doesn’t tell Ralfo the truth.  “Look, I’m sorry. About everything. About not telling you the reps called and for practically telling them to fuck off. I had my reasons,” She thinks about those reasons, cringes but continues, “they weren’t  _ good _ reasons but they were reasons. But you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll do it.” 

“I’m delighted to see your brain is only at about 70% fried.” He quips, sinking into the couch with his hand coming to rest on his forehead, a relieved smile tugging at his lips. 

“Eat a dick,” Carmen replies once she’s stood from the chair, ready to get back to the schoolwork on her counter. She motions for the strung out agent on her couch to shoo after they’ve agreed that he’ll get the pleasure of calling the Netflix reps back to let them know that Carmen is  _ in. _

She lets her head fall against her kitchen counter with a prominent  _ thunk  _ when she’s alone again. She’s doomed. 

  
  
Carmen is only allowed to lose herself in daydreams for a few moments more when she’s pulled out by a foot kicking at her own, belonging to Sam. Sam, her assistant, another long-time friend and member #2 of her two person team (#1 being the once again aforementioned agent). 

She looks over to Sam, who’s sitting awake next to a snoring Ralfo with soft eyes directed at her. Sam leans in to speak softly into Carmen’s space, entwining their fingers together, “What are you looking so brooding and pensive for?” 

Carmen offers her a weak smile, “Just getting into character.” Sam knew what was really going on, why Carmen had hesitated, why she looks so mortified to be here. Sam didn’t think Carmen’s reasons were juvenile; she understood. She tried to soothe Carmen’s nerves the entire way, encouraging her to stay calm. They smiled and allowed silence to flow throughout the car. Carmen let her head on Sam’s shoulder; the exhaustion finally overriding her frantic mind. She let her eyes droop closed. 

It wasn’t until the glaring, artificial yellow lights illuminating the hotel entrance pierced past Carmen’s shut eyelids that she awoke. Her chest tight again and the new sensation of an upset stomach introducing itself as she absentmindedly watched the hotel attendants unload the bags from the SUV's trunk. Sam squeezing her shoulder as they made their way into the lobby was the last feeling Carmen registers until she's settling into her suite, letting her two companions find their own rooms. Sitting at the edge of the plush mattress, she fishes for her phone in the carry on. Connecting to the complimentary wi-fi, she watches the notifications and texts flow in. Her mother telling her to have a safe flight, her closest friends sending her words of encouragement and her boyfriend. Her _boyfriend_. 

Before she can even begin to read his text, she's heaving violently into the palm over her mouth so as to not alert the entire hotel floor. Everything she's been feeling, everything bubbling under the surface finally reaches its boiling point. She's on her hands and knees clawing at her chest to rid it of the tightness plaguing her. Sobs rake through her, hot tears diving down her face, dripping down onto the beige carpeting. 

It's too much. She never should have come here, never should have said yes. She would've found another role, another show. _Anything but this_.

Carmen manages to lift herself off the carpet to the small desk in the corner of the room, letting her forehead rest on the dark wood. Her breath slowing and the tears beginning to dry on her cheeks, she sighs. A soft knock at her door forces her to regain composure; she calls out a feeble "coming!", sounding as pathetic as ever. Standing on the other side of the door is Sam's soft eyes staring back at her, "Just wanted to see how you were doing. And to to tell you everyone else is downstairs in the bar," She pauses to watch Carmen's expression shift, "I'll tell them you're feeling sick. Goodnight, Carmensita." She whispers the last part. 

_Downstairs in the bar_ _:_ the words rang in her ears. Everyone was hanging out in the bar, cast and crew. _He_ was _downstairs,_ only a few floors away. The mere thought of being near him made that sick feeling in Carmen's gut grow stronger and her breathing quicken once again. The feeling of being in his presence, a heat spread through her body and radiated out into the air around her like embers to a flame. She'd been dreading this: seeing him again after months, months of trying to regain whatever sense of normalcy was left in her. 

_It's too fucking hot._ She had to quench the boiling of blood under her skin, she needed a fucking shower. Tearing open the bathroom door, ripping off the clothes she'd been wearing for hours and not bothering to level the temperature of the curtain of water coming down on her; she needed this. She tried to wash away the visions of him. The image of his hand around a glass of dark liquor, lips wet from the alcohol and his laugh growing louder with confidence. She tried to relieve herself of the burning that came with imagining the wrinkle around his eye when he smiled, tried to rid herself of the feeling that his dark brown eyes were there with her. 

Carmen dried off, changed and sank into the plushness of the mattress below her. Reaching for her phone on the other side of the bed, she replied to whoever she needed. Carmen pressed ' _call'_ without hesitation and reveled in the familiarity of the groggy voice on the other end. An anchor, he was; anchoring her to who mattered. The accent maximized by his half-asleep state had the heat under skin dissipating, she knew she'd lull to sleep with no worry if his was the last thing she heard. She closed her eyes, imagined what his hair looked like at the moment and laughed only to herself. 

He rasped out a hushed " _How was the flight, babe?"_ before Carmen had the chance to greet him back, " _Jet lag? Upset tummy?''_

Carmen heard herself sigh into the phone, "It was fine. Felt sick once we landed but," She heard him shift on the other end, the sheets she'd picked out herself likely moving with him and she felt an ache deep in her chest, "I feel better now. Hearing your voice." 

He laughed slightly knowing how sentimental she can get and how quickly, " _Well, I'm glad I could help, love. "_

Tears welled up in her eyes, the tightness in her chest was back. Only this time, she knew why it was there: guilt. He's here on the phone, thousands of miles away in _their_ bed and she's only finding solace in him to escape the torment. Before he could take note of her silence and ask if she was ok, she responded with, "You always do." 

They talked until Carmen found it too challenging to keep her eyes open and her mouth moving; any vision of a hand not her lover's gone from her mind when they hung up and she, once again, let exhaustion take over. 


End file.
